Successful Therapy
by The One Named MoonLight
Summary: You bring the problems. We fix 'em. ['cause every fandom needs a therapy fanfic] UPDATES EVERY FRIDAY, GMT TIMING. Suggestions are most welcome.
1. Prologue

**Ladies and Gents! I have brought to existence yet another story to the Rise of the Guardians fandom (****_I should reeeaally get a life)—_****'cause every fandom needs a therapy fanfic.**

* * *

_Prologue_

"This is such an idiotic idea. I can't believe you actually took Jack's suggestion seriously, North!"

"Relax, Pitch, is only test."

"Yeah, 'opefully they won't even see us."

"Uh, 'bout that," _scratches neck_, "It's a clinic—especially for spirits and mythicals."

"FROST! I WILL PLAGUE YOUR HEAD FOR A MONTH!"

"Calm yourself, Pitch, or we'll let you go first."

"_Shut up_ you flying rainbow!"

_Sandy symbols_.

"Oh, put a sock in it, little man!"

_Sing-song_, "You're gonna be first, Pitchy."

"Guardians!"

_A moment of silence._

"How about if I go first? As I am your leader?"

. . .

"Yeah, absolutely."

"Khorosho idea, Manny."

"Sure, why not?"

_Thumbs up_.

"Good luck, MiM."

"Finally you make the right decision, 'old friend'."

_To self, 'Why did I choose a bunch of cowards as Guardians again?'_

" . . . I'm not a Guardian, by the by."

"Pitch, stay out of my head."

* * *

**Khorosho: good**


	2. Meet the Therapist

_Meet the Therapist_

"Therapist, prepare yourself, you have a few patients."

"How many?"

"Uh," _papers shuffling_, "Seven."

_Squeaking, swiveling_. _Shadows obscuring person's face_.

"Send them in."

"Of course." _Pause._ "Just one question, Therapist."

"_Yes_, Jeremy?"

"Why do you have the lights closed?"

"I was . . .practicing my evil entrance."

"Really?"

_Sigh. _"The light's out again."

"Oh, I'll go get the mechanic."

"Please do."

* * *

_Some time later..._

"Right, you can try flipping the switch now."

_Snap! _"Great, it works, thanks."

"Do I get a tip?"

"Get out." _Watches man leave_, "The nerve of people these days, always greedy and selfish, whatever happened to good, honest—"

"Jeremy, what did you last say?"

"Whatever happened to good work?"

"Before that."

"Get out?"

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

_The door shuts, leaving the Therapist in the otherwise empty room with the bright, white light bulb. Brown bun, red lipstick, crisp white shirt, dark knee-length skirt, black heels_.

_Only one word describes her: Sharp_.

_A sleek golden tag sat at the side of her chest: Ms. Nourie, Therapist._

_Tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap-tap goes her finger pads_, "Let the games begin."


	3. Session 1: Start with the Leader

**_Session 1: Start with the Leader_**

The man in the chair wasn't very tall. He was a little taller than Sandy, wearing a long, beige colored coat with intricate details embroidered on them and a vest and beige pants. His head was bald except for the long, thin lock of blond hair that stood up and did a swirly thing.

"So…" Nourie cleared her throat, "Mr. Man in Moon."

"Um," he held his finger up, "Actually, I prefer the name Mr. Lunar, I'm not always in the moon, and technically speaking, I'm the Man _on_ the Moon, so that means the Guardians should call me MoM…" he frowned when he realized the oddity of what he just said, "...nope, MiM is much better."

"Yes." The woman snapped, although not harshly, "I'll call you Mr. Lunar."

He gave her a small smile, "Good, and what will I call you?"

"Call me Ms. Therapist." she stated bluntly as she started to write down something in her papers.

"Alright then, Ms. The Rapist." He said innocently, looking around the office.

The woman's eyebrow twitched but she said nothing and continued to write.

The Man that was Currently not on the Moon decided to break the silence, "Have you considered being a Guardian?"

"No." she said flatly as she pressed a little too hardly on the pen until it exploded, covering both people in ink. Nourie frowned and with a flick of her finger she wiped the ink from her glasses.

MiM looked a bit stunned, blinking several times, and then smiled, "Is this part of the therapy session?"

If she could, Nourie would've blown out sand from her ears. Instead, she shook her head gently to keep the ink from splattering anywhere and pulled out a Wipes tissue from her drawer, offering it to the unnaturally happy man in front of her.

"Why thank you, young lady." He said pleasantly and wiped his chubby face as easily as one wipes dust from glass.

Nourie wiped her own face with a couple more Wipes, "I'm not _that_ young, Mr. Lunar."

"Really?" he asked curiously, "Then how young are you, Ms. The Rapist?"

She growled inwardly at the stain on her shirt to divert her anger away from the man, "Young enough to be patient with people like you." She looked up at him, "And it's _Therapist_, only one word."

"Oh. Well, we didn't have Thera-pists in the Golden Age."

She dropped the Wipes in the bin and clasped her hands on the desk professionally, "Right, let's get down to business."

"Good idea."

"Are you aggressive?"

"No."

"Depressed?"

"No."

"Angry?"

"Nope."

"Do you feel unnerving fear from anything or anyone?"

"Negative."

"Do you feel unnerving obsession with anything or anyone?"

"Well, I have a collection of relics back on the Moon Clip—…er, Moon, but I don't think that counts as an obsession, do you?"

"No. Please stop rambling, sir. Do randomly fall asleep?"

"…no."

"Nightmares?"

"Never had one in my life!"

"Anything wrong?"

"Not even the slightest."

"Then why the heck are you here?!"

"I have no idea!" he said and threw his hands up.

Suddenly, something crashed through the roof. A skinny boy in armour was holding his spear threateningly, trying to find some sort of threat.

MiM turned to him, "What are you doing here, Nightlight? You just destroyed the poor lady's roof!"

The boy sheepishly scratched the back of his head when he noticed the man sitting in the chair and nothing was wrong. He created the shape of some weird devise radiating signals with his hands.

"Really?" Manny quickly dug into his pocket and pulled out the devise in question and noticed it was on, "Oh, sorry, my bad." He smiled sheepishly at the woman, "I must've called him here by accident."

The woman groaned and dropped her head in her hands.

"Well, don't worry, Nightlight, wait outside, please, I sense Pitch and Jack are having another squabble again."

The spectral boy nodded and left.

Manny poked the woman in the arm, "Um…Ma'am?"

She waved to the door, "Go, you're clear."

* * *

_Outside_…

"So, how did session go?" North asked.

Manny nodded, "Oh, it was dandy. Although the woman should see someone about her stress issues."

* * *

**What are your thoughts? Good enough? **

_Next up: Sandman_

_I see, [...] Since forever, hmm?_

_"It could be from the ungodly amount of dreamsand that coats you."_


	4. Session 2: Sandman

**Hello you lovely people! How was your week? I hope it went well :)**

**Oh, and 200 views? I'm stumped! Yeah, sure, only one rev came up, but hey! At least someone had the guts to!**

**Anywho, here we are!**

* * *

**Session 2: Sandman**

The woman glanced up from her papers, "Sandman?"

Sandy nodded, stifling a yawn and blinked sleepily. He pointed at her and then formed a question mark.

The woman just stared at him, as though she didn't understand him, "I'm sorry, could you elaborate your question?"

Sandy frowned for a minute before taking a stray paper and pen and wrote down the question.

"I am Nourie, but for now you may know me as Ms. Therapist."

The man nodded.

"So, Sandy," she started, pulling out a paper from the bunch of them she had on her desk, "It says that you fall asleep excessively? Unable to stay awake at times?"

The Sandman shook his head furiously.

"I see." she clucked her tongue, "How long has this been going, Sandman?"

Sandy shrugged.

Nourie sighed stiffly, "Mind rearranging the words of that? I don't understand sign language."

Sandy huffed and pulled the paper again, he wrote down his answer and placed it on the desk.

She looked down at it, "Since forever, hmm?" the woman nodded to herself, "Well, after gathering my information, I can safely say that you have hypersomnia, which is excessive daytime sleepiness. There could be many reasons for this, one is stress, or head trauma or tumors, or misalignments of the body's circadian pacemaker with the environment, or many other causes. Now, I would recommend drinking coffee every time you feel tired or-"

She stopped talking to find the golden man snoring away softly on his chair.

Nourie ran a finger over the golden substance on her desk, "Or," she mused in low voice as she stared at the golden sand on her finger, "It could be from the ungodly amount of dreamsand that coats you."

The fan that was conveniently placed blew the dreamsand that was on her desk into her eyes. Before the therapist could register what was happening, she fell on her desk, fast asleep.

Sandy cracked and eye open and grinned, the door of the office opened quietly and Jack's head popped out, "Hey, she asleep yet?"

He gave him a thumbs up before floating away and both ran out.

Sometime later, a dark figure entered through the open door and let his Nightmare roam freely over the therapist's head before slinking out.

* * *

**Opinions people! Like? Hate? Sorry it's short, but so is Sandy XD**

**Hypersomnia is real people! There some who really suffer this! I dedicate this chapter to all people with this disorder!**

**Oh, and suggestions are gladly accepted!**

**Cheerio's!**


	5. Session 3: Elf

**417 views, 6 follows, 3 faves**

**did I mention how wonderful you all are?**

**This chapter is dedicated to candycanelila for the lovely review.**

* * *

**Session 3: Elf**

In the chair sat a small figure, twiddling his thumbs before it turned to an all-out thumb war between his two hands.

"Name?"

The figure looked up with the jingle of a bell.

The therapist looked up from her papers and adjusted her glasses, "Yes, your name?"

His eyes darted both ways before he pointed at the pen.

The therapist glanced at it, "Your name's Pen? As in Poppy Pen?"

He shook his head and insisted on pointing at it.

Finally understanding, she handed him a paper and pen.

A few scribbles later and he held up the paper with extremely shaky handwriting.

She peered closely, "Pri . . . n . . . Pringle?" Nourie asked with a raised brow.

He nodded with an annoyed scowl.

"Right, um, Pringle the Elf, I'm assuming you know why you're here?" she felt ridiculous doing this.

The elf shook his head.

"Alright," she glanced at her papers, "Your boss has been complaining of extreme aggressiveness. You pushed Dimble the Horn Elf when he had his horn on and broke his skull. You punched another fellow elf at Jack's coronation at his pond when he harmlessly expressed his joy. You've bitten Jack multiple times." She leaned forward on her desk, "This is not good."

The elf frowned and started to tell his story through many hand gestures and voice effects and finished by pounding his fist in his palm many times.

After some silence, Nourie shut her mouth with an audible click and wrote something in her papers, "So, Mr. Pringle, unless you meant a fish jumped over MiM and landed in a pond before turning to a shark and you punched it when it came to attack you, I understood zip." She said.

Pringle did a facepalm.

The woman huffed, "Look, I'll help you with your problem. I want you to close your eyes and repeat this mantra in your head, 'I will not be Pringle the Aggressive, I will be Pringle the Adorable'."

The elf nodded and complied.

In a sudden show of skill, the therapist leaped from her chair to do a handstand on her desk and push herself off to land near her cupboard silently. There was even ninja music in the background from an unknown source. She fumbled with the key around her neck and opened a cupboard with it. Inside was a key which she took and rushed to the opposite cupboard and opened it to reveal another key and she rushed to the wall opposite to her desk to unlock the only square cupboard hanging on it. The cupboard was a bit high, but it was no match for her. Nourie leaped in the air, did a few roll flips and landed on top of the cupboard and unlocked it before climbing down.

The woman ran to the middle of the floor and placed the card from the cupboard on the only black tile in the room. It glowed purple and showed the picture of a unicorn. Nourie's eyes darted sideways before she quickly pressed on each eye and slid down its horn since the tile was like a touch device. The tile went into the ground and what got out was a pedestal with a small shaker. She took it, and everything returned as though the pedestal never came out, and she went to the cupboard hanging on the door to reveal a machine gun.

With a serious face, she placed the contents of the shaker into the machine gun and held it behind her body. How she managed to hide it behind her was unimaginable.

Quickly, Nourie returned to her desk and sat down, all signs of her ninja-kungfu-stealth skills were inexistent.

"Alright, you can open your eyes now, Mr. Pringle."

* * *

Outside, they heard a lot of banging and a woman screaming along with the squeaks of the elf. They all stared at the door and tried to move backwards with their chairs.

"How do you think it's going?" Bunny asked.

"Obviously, the woman is giving the anger issue elf the worst death imaginable." Pitch said, "I can smell its fear, very strong."

Jack deadpanned, "Not helping, Pitch."

"Well," he said as he turned to the winter spirit, "I'm just saying the truth. She's a psycho female who plans to kill any one of us who enters in her office."

Tooth cocked her head to the side, "Is this related to your fear of therapists and psychiatrists?" she asked innocently.

Everyone turned to stare at the dark spirit, who looked like he wanted to disappear.

* * *

_Sometime later…_

The door opened to reveal the elf's tiny figure looking completely different from the morning. It grinned so bright I, Moonlight, wondered why the heck I didn't just add a rainbow over it. Pringle ran and latched itself onto North's leg in a hug, giving the nicest smile to anyone who stared at him.

Pitch blinked and muttered, "The witch actually did something right this time..."

Jack inched slowly towards it and poked it quickly with his finger. Instead of having it get bitten off like he expected, it let go of North and latched onto Jack's hand in a hug.

The boy shook his hand a little to get the thing off, "Wow, the crazy lady did it. Pringle doesn't wanna kill me anymore."

Said woman was standing at the doorway, her hair a bit disheveled, her glasses were misplaced on her nose, and there was something odd about her, as though she decided to sprinkle sparkles on herself But other than that, she was grinning in a smug way with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Alright, you go on and I vill catch up." North said cheerily, "Ve need to celebrate vith ishriek!"

Sandy shook his head and made the picture of ice and a woman screaming while gripping her heart.

"Is vhat I say, Sandy." North insisted.

Bunny facepalmed, "North, it's ice-cream!"

As the rest left the building, North went to the woman standing in the door way.

"That vaz magnificent, Ms. Therapist!" he asked happily.

Her grin widened, "That's us, North, Successful Therapy; You give the problems, we fix 'em."

"Da, but how did you do it?"

* * *

_The woman turned around and held the gun in front of her. With the manic gleam in her eyes she screamed as she shot pink sparkles at the poor elf,_

"_DIE, ANGER, DIEEEE!"_

* * *

"That," she said, "Is an interesting question."

* * *

**Elves, what are you gonna do?**

**I hope this was to your liking, although it would be easier to know _what_ your liking is.**

**Jack Frost fans (especially fangirls) prepare yourselves!**


	6. Session 4: Jack Frost

**708 views, 7 faves  
you guys . . . I can't believe it, you've actually made me cry *sniff*  
and as for the boatload of revs . . . I just adore you all.**

**Alright then, I dedicate this chapter to JF fangirls.**

***whispers* and as for the other authors, let's escape before they arri- OH GOD! THE FANGIRLS CAME, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!**

* * *

**Session #4: Jack Frost**

"So," she started, "Jack Frost."

Jack's grip on his staff tightened, "Yeah, that's me, and you are . . . ?"

"You can call me Nourie, or Ms. Therapist."

"Oookay . . . Nourie."

She nodded, "Yes," the therapist shuffled the papers, attempting to look professional, before starting, "I've heard, from your acquaintances of your tendency to—" Nourie glanced at the papers before looking him dead in the eye, "crack up puns related to winter. Is that correct?"

"I don't snow what you mean, ma'am."

She glanced back at the papers and ticked something with her pen, "I see." The therapist looked up, "Jack, can you tell me how long you've been doing this?"

"Frost a while."

"Right." She cleared her throat, "Jack, this is a serious problem. You must stop."

"Why? It's cool!"

"No, it's not." She said stiffly, "Honestly, Jack, it's starting to affect people. Badly."

He nodded gravely, "Icy."

The woman sighed and covered her eyes, "I'm serious. People could get hurt. This is a place you do _not_ want to be in."

"So in other words . . . I'm treading on thin ice?"

She deadpanned at him in a way only women can.

Jack shrank back in his chair before popping up, "Wait, I ava-to-lanche one more, it's an ice one."

Nourie huffed and gestured with her hand, "Fire away."

He cleared his throat, "What happens when you eat ice?"

She humored him tiredly, "I don't know. What?"

Jack cracked up, "F-Frostbite. AHAHAHAHA!" he fell off the chair, laughing away.

"Oh no," she moaned, "you didn't go there. You so did _not_ go there."

He got up, still wracking with contained laughter, "Why? It was frigid awesome! In fact, I found myself quite…

*boss face* freezed."

The therapist banged her head against the desk, "No, please, you're torturing me! Stop it!"

"Aw, c'mon, Nourie, chill out! Better yet," he smirked, "Take a chill pill."

"AHH! I CAN'T FEEL MY BRAIN!" she screamed before dragging the boy to the door and shoving him out before slamming the door.

The Guardians and Pitch all watched the door worriedly and then looked at Jack.

North cleared his throat, "So . . . how did session go?"

Jack grinned, "It was . . . a winter-ful experience."

Everyone groaned.

* * *

_Two days later . . ._

A random dude came to the office, wanting to have his session and be cured of his obsession, only to find the following note hanging on the door:

_Ms. Human is going through serious issues and has gone to see a therapist._

_Service is not available at this time._

* * *

**No comment other than Dave Barry's words (concerning those who are pun fanatics—in other words, me):**

_**Puns are little "plays on words"  
that a certain breed of person loves to spring on you  
and then look at you in a certain self-satisfied way to indicate that he thinks  
that you must think  
that he is by far the cleverest person on Earth now that Benjamin Franklin is dead,  
when in fact  
what you are thinking is that if this person ever ends up in a lifeboat,  
the other passengers will hurl him overboard by the end of the first day  
even if they have plenty of food and water.**_

**I hope this chapter was to your liking, y'all, and as usual, suggestions are not only allowed, but encouraged!**


	7. Session 5: Pitch Black

**So then, I take it you like PunFanatic!Jack Frost?**

**Me too (who doesn't?)**

**I am proud to say we are closing in on 1,000 views! God, I feel so popular . . .**

**Anyways, our next session with the infamous .**

* * *

_Session #5: Pitch Black_

The woman glanced up indifferently at her victi_—_…patient.

"Pitch Black."

The man gave her the most fearsome scowl. However his eyes darted to many places, as if trying to find any hidden weapons.

She jotted something down, "So, Mr. Black, can I call you that?"

"If you'd like an endless year of Nightmares."

"He speaks!"

Pitch glared at her. "I once took down _planets_…and now I'm reduced to _this_." He hissed.

The therapist continued writing something, if she heard him she didn't show it. "Right, it says that you've been experiencing Nigh-"

"DO _NOT_ SAY IT!" he shouted before composing himself, "It is impossible for one such as myself to _have_ Nightmares." He leaned forward slightly, "I _create_ them."

The woman raised a brow before going back to her papers, "Anyways, skipping through the symptoms, I'll just be blunt." She looked up at him dead in the eye, "You have Therapistphobia."

There was a moment of silence until Pitch Black barked out a sharp laugh.

"Phobia? Foolish human, I am the _bringer_ of phobias!"

The woman leaned forwards on her desk, the man leaned backwards as much as the chair would allow, "Really?"

Pitch gulped softly, "O-Of course."

The therapist sat back on her seat and resumed writing, "I understand you're…_dislike_ for people like me." She said, unaware of the Nightmare standing behind her with a dagger in its mouth, cutting at her long hair slowly.

"Of course you do." Pitch said, unconvincingly. "Especially when you took time to study your title."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, the word 'therapist' is composed of two words; 'the' and 'rapist'. 'Rapist' means abuser or destroyer, and the 'the' before it just brings more attention to it." Pitch sniffed, "If you ask me, 'therapist' was probably miswritten by some idiot and forgot to add a space."

The woman nodded vaguely, "Suuure." She wrote on the paper while muttering, "Also is extremely verbomanic. Interesting."

Pitch gave her an insulted look, "What?!"

She looked up again, "Forget about that," she said while waving her hand and shaking her head . . .

. . . then she noticed the lack of weight from her hair and grasped at the back of her head to feel the tips of her brown hair brushing her neck. She turned around with an aghast expression to the mare behind her and then to Pitch Black, who was giving her a smug smirk.

"I told you, I am the _master_ of phobias."

Her scowl intensified greatly, it seemed as though she would explode. Then . . . she became calm and sat down as though nothing happened, ignoring the long locks of hair that littered the ground.

It was unnerving.

Nourie gave a look to Sandy, who was sitting on the couch because he was supposed to keep Pitch restrained, "Could you be so kind as to leave, Sandman? I need to have a private word with Mr. Black."

Sandy nodded and hurried out, but not before giving Pitch the look 'sucks to be you'.

The other man was looking at him pleadingly until the door slammed shut by some unseen force and Nourie's hand that slammed on the desk. He snapped his head at her to see a smirk tugging on her lips, she removed her glasses and placed them delicately on her desk.

"Let's cure that phobia of yours, Mr. Master-of-Phobias."

* * *

_Outside…After sometime…_

* * *

After watched the door for an hour, they didn't hear anything except for low voices talking, and a loud explosion that made the place shake! But when they looked around, none of the people who worked here looked concerned.

The door opened to reveal Pitch, his eyes wide and he quickly walked away from the office on shaky legs. He noticed the Guardians looking at him and he said ominously, "The horrors . . . that lie behind that door . . ."

They looked up at the woman who just appeared in the doorway, a small, innocent smile on her face.

Jack, who had been joking a while ago, became paler than possible and ran out of the building like a maniac with Bunny running right after him. The rest of the troupe helped Pitch up and with a curt nod directed at the therapist (who's hair was suddenly a messy bob), they fled for their lives. If she managed to shake the King of Fear to the core . . .

. . . where the heck was she when he tried to get rid of their belief? And if she managed to do that to _Pitch_, what would happen to the rest of them?

She watched them running away and waved cheerily, "Don't forget to call, Pitch!" Nourie then turned around and took off her hair; long, dark brown hair fell at the same height as before, which ended at her thighs. She threw the wig over her shoulder carelessly _—__hitting someone with maliaphobia in the face, resulting in that person's death__—_ and said, "Good thing I have backup . . . and soundproof walls."

Strangely, she hadn't used the glitter-firing machine gun.

* * *

**Admit it, we all like Tortured!Pitch**

**What do you think?**

**_Maliaphobia_ is fear of wigs and _Verbomania_ is obsession with words**

**They are real people! Do not insult them!**

**Alright, so I have a few more written for the rest of the gang, but I would like suggestions! It's a bit hard making up ideas by myself.**


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